Oh My, Omi

Over Memorial Day weekend, my good friends Jean, Lesley and Peter came up for a visit. While Peter was summoned to take John to Catskill to pick up a new chainsaw, I suggested to the ladies that we go get ourselves a little "cultcha," and take a visit to The Fields Sculpture Park in nearby Omi.

All was going well when we arrived. I parked the big, honking SUV just next to the space reserved for "eco-efficient vehicles" and Jean managed to go to the loo without dousing herself by accidently turning on the random knob coming out of the wall that she didn't realize led to a showerhead (she thought it was an art installation). Then we grabbed a map from the LEED visitor center and looking out upon the vast greens, decided to lube up with some insect repellent to keep the ticks away.

Thinking we had taken all precautions, out we went, across the field, feeling all arty and stuff. But it wasn't long before Jean began swatting the air, as if having an epileptic fit.

"Are you having the same problem," she asked.

But since I wasn't flailing about, I wasn't quite sure what she meant.

"The bugs."

What bugs?

Are you sure the bugs aren't getting you?

Stop laughing, these bugs are annoying.

Okay, I've really had it now...

But bugs there were, and when the breeze stopped, there were tons of them. Well, tons if you're a Citiot, like us. So we tried to hang in there, with Jean swatting in misery, and me taking pictures of her, doubled-over laughing, and then decided to hell with it, who needs culture when there's a Dairy Queen nearby.

Which goes to show ya, bad things happen when you leave Manhattan, but there's always room for ice cream.